


can't help falling

by CS_WhiteWolf



Series: (500)days of Eames [2]
Category: (500) Days of Summer (2009), Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Community: ae_match, Emotional Baggage, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CS_WhiteWolf/pseuds/CS_WhiteWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has sworn off love and will do everything he can to make sure he won’t be hurt by it again. The only thing in his way? The new Forger, Somerled Eames, who is determined to charm his way both into Arthur’s bed and into Arthur’s heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't help falling

**Author's Note:**

> Set in my [(500)days of Eames](http://archiveofourown.org/series/10587) verse. This is a sequel to '[here comes your man](http://archiveofourown.org/works/206646)', but can be read as a stand alone.
> 
> Artwork is by the amazing {[lj](http://essouffle.livejournal.com)}essouffle ♥ please click on the thumbnail to view the original post!

  
[](http://ae-match.livejournal.com/128836.html)  
  


Arthur wasn’t always stoic and impassive when it came to showing his emotions. There was a time, long before he got into dreamsharing, where he used to wear his heart on his sleeve and was willing to love as wholly and unconditionally as possible.

That was before he’d met Summer Finn, of course. Before she’d irrevocably broken his heart and left him to pick up the pieces. He’d tried to put himself back together after she left, tried holding onto the hope of love and the notion that there was someone out there for him. But no matter how hard he tried, how much he wanted to open his heart to the option of love, he couldn’t let go of the hurt and the fear that Summer’s rejection had left him with.

And so, in an endeavour to protect himself, he’d eventually sworn off love all together.

It had seemed like a foolproof plan at the time. And with his initiation into the shadowy world of dreamshare and the way it commanded his complete attention, there didn’t seem to be any reason to worry further as far as matters of the heart were concerned.

He hadn’t counted on meeting Somerled Eames, of course.

Even from their very first meeting, with Eames’ hand warmly clasping at his own, Arthur had found himself drawn in by the man’s roguishness, by the way his eyes smiled and his mouth purred out the word “darling” as if it were an endearment meant only for him.

Arthur had felt his heart stutter that first time, his hand tightening unconsciously around Eames’ own even as he’d smiled abashedly at the man. There was a certain charm to Eames that Arthur wasn’t quite sure he would be able to resist.

After spending just over a month working their first job together, Arthur quickly came to the realisation that Eames wasn’t a man he had to resist. Being around Eames was easy and uncomplicated and Arthur found himself regularly surprised by how comfortable he found himself with Eames and his constant low-level flirting; the teasing touches, the endearments, the smiles they shared when Arthur lifted his head from his work long enough to enjoy Eames’ company.

Perhaps the most important thing Arthur realised as they finished up the job, money changing hands and accounts in the hours before they prepared to head their separate ways, was that if anything happened between Eames and himself, it would be casual and easy and completely without strings attached.

After so long steering himself away from the possibility of love (to the determent of his own bodily needs), the very thought of being with someone, particularly someone as carefree as Eames, was especially exciting.

“What do you say, darling?” Eames asked, sidling up to the desk Arthur was busy wiping down.

Arthur looked up, quirking a brief smile at him, “Say to what?”

“Really, Arthur, it wounds me that you aren’t hanging onto my every word.” Eames bemoaned somewhat dramatically. Arthur rolled his eyes, amused despite himself.

“I asked if you’d like to come back to mine,” Eames said with a smirk, “you know, _for coffee_.”

“Coffee, Mr Eames?” Arthur asked, eyebrows raised at the clear intention behind Eames’ words. He felt a shiver of delight rush through him as the smile in Eames’ eyes darkened to one of desire.

“Yeah, coffee,” Eames agreed.

“How very American of you.” Arthur commented, straightening then and dropping the cloth he’d been using into the wastepaper basket beside the desk.

“I thought you might like that,” Eames said, grinning once more, as Arthur took a box of matches from his trouser pocket, lighting one and dropping it into the bin where it soon set the contents alight with a whoosh that suggested there was a bit more than just paper and fabric inside.

Arthur spared one final glance around the warehouse, ensuring that all trace of their presence there had been removed before turning back to Eames. His heart thumping against his chest with the excited sort of nervousness that preludes agreeing to go home with somebody for the first time.

“You’re right Mr Eames,” Arthur said, voice a little breathless as Eames stepped into his personal space, “I’d very much like to have coffee with you.”

And that, as they say, was that.

Or at least it would have been, if Arthur was the sort of man to stop over analysing every little thing.

There was no prelude to seduction once they stepped foot into Eames’ hotel room. Arthur barely had an opportunity to take in the rumpled bed and still-drawn curtains before Eames was on him, those gorgeous lips of his pressing insistently against his mouth until Arthur was helpless in his resistance, opening to Eames with a breathless sort of moan. His hands found Eames’ shoulders just as Eames’ own settled themselves at Arthur’s hips, his fingers squeezing encouragement as he plundered Arthur’s willing mouth.

The kiss seemed to last an age, the pleasant tingle of his lips as they touched with Eames’, the tantalising scrape of Eames’ stubble as he moved his mouth against Arthur’s, the sinful talent of Eames’ tongue as it claimed his mouth in every possible way, all of it combined sent a flush of desire rushing through his body, heating his skin and setting his breathing to a series of desperate gasps managed between the brief partings of their lips.

“Were you actually planning on offering me coffee?” Arthur managed to gasp out between kisses, desperately trying to clear the haze from his mind.

Eames pulled back from him, looking distinctly horrified. “But I thought that was a euphemism!”

Arthur bit back his grin, noting that Eames wasn’t nearly so horrified as to actually stop his hands from slipping down past his waistline and grabbing at his ass.

“A euphemism?” Arthur asked, feigning shock. “I can’t imagine what for.”

Eames twisted his hips, pressing a telling hardness against Arthur’s crotch. Arthur moaned, feeling his body respond with eagerness. He thrust helplessly upwards, trying to rub himself more fully against Eames’ slowly rolling hips.

“That answer enough?” Eames breathed, leaning in to mouth the words against Arthur’s ear.

“Oh, yeah,” Arthur agreed, turning his head to kiss along the length of Eames’ jaw. Eames found his searching mouth soon enough, his lips slanting perfectly against Arthur’s in another long, slow kiss.

“I can’t believe you lured me here under false pretences,” Arthur breathed, almost dimpling as they pulled away for air. Eames curled his reddened lips as if in distaste.

“If I wanted you over for drinks, I’d have offered you tea,” Eames countered. “It’s a far more civilised beverage, for a start,” he kissed away Arthur’s defensive protest before it could pass his lips.

“Although,” he continued, “if you’re really desperate for a drink…” he jerked his hips pointedly into Arthur’s again and Arthur felt his eyes flutter at the fissions of lust that shot through him.

“You think I’m that easy, Mr Eames?” He asked, voice hitching as Eames did it again.

“I think you’re a lot of things, darling, but easy?” He paused as for dramatic effect, “I certainly hope so!”

Arthur laughed, swatting playfully at Eames’ arm. “It’s a good thing I like you Mr Eames, a guy could take offence otherwise.”

Eames grinned. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Arthur agreed. “You’ve seen what I can do with a computer.” He added, referencing the dirt he’d managed to dig up on one of their marks; the information attained had all but broken the man before they’d even had to enter his mind.

“Mmm, yes. You do have very talented hands, don’t you?” Eames lifted one of said hands, pressing Arthur’s fingers against the fullness of his lips a moment before he flicked his tongue out to lick almost coyishly against them.

Arthur bit at his bottom lip, watching as Eames’ eyes flickered down to his mouth, enraptured as he worried the flesh between his teeth. Eames reached out with his free hand, thumbing at Arthur’s lip, dragging it free from his teeth. He pressed against it lightly, dragging his thumb across the curve of his mouth before leaning in to claim it with his own.

Arthur moaned, sliding his hands along Eames’ shoulders as Eames’ tongue plundered into his mouth without prelude. He pressed in, trying to get as close as was physically possible with clothing still between them. Eames gave a moan of his own as Arthur’s fingers touched at the back of his neck, his hand sliding up into Eames’ hair and tightening just enough to draw another moan from him.

“God, you have a fantastic mouth too,” Eames breathed, reluctantly dragging his lips away from Arthur’s with a slick, wet sound. Arthur’s face was flushed, his eyes dark with desire for Eames.

He stroked at the back of Eames neck a moment. “You think so, huh?”

“I know so,” Eames whispered, leaning in for a series of quick, open-mouthed kisses.

“You should see the rest of me then,” Arthur teased, bringing one hand to Eames’ chest, his fingers teasing at the buttons on Eames’ horrendous shirt; briefly he considered just ripping the material from Eames’ body, to do them both a favour.

“Oh, I plan to,” Eames grinned, reaching for Arthur’s tie. He managed only to loosen it and pop the first button of his shirt before Arthur was pushing his hands away and sliding down his body.

“Oh god,” Eames breathed, as Arthur settled on his knees before him. Arthur’s smile was a wicked one as he looked up a moment before leaning in, pressing his face to Eames’ stomach, nosing his way lower but at the same time refusing to remove the layers of clothing between himself and Eames’ skin.

Eames made a sound halfway between a groan and a whimper as Arthur nuzzled his way down to his crotch, his nose pressing against the bulge clearly tenting his trousers. He inhaled deeply, the sound of it enough to drive Eames’ knees to weakness if the hand suddenly finding its way into Arthur’s hair was anything to go by.

“Don’t mess the hair,” Arthur growled, playfully, opening his mouth to ghost along the length of Eames’ cock. It was quite clear that beneath these trousers, Eames wasn’t wearing anything.

Eames tried and failed to laugh at his words, instead giving another one of those whimper-growls of his as Arthur’s mouth coaxed a spurt of pre-cum from him, the wetness immediately soaking into his pants, leaving a visible mark against the dark grey material.

“Oh… oh god,” he moaned again, watching as Arthur’s tongue flicked out to lick at the spot. He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath to try and calm himself. When he looked back down, Arthur was grinning wickedly up at him, looking like sin on his knees before Eames, his tie askew and his hair in the sort of disarray Eames knew he wouldn’t mind seeing on a more regular basis.

“Fuck,” he blurted, unable to stop the words from spilling from his lips. “I think I could quite easily fall in love with you, darling.”

Arthur looked momentarily startled at his words, his eyes widening fractionally. He opened his mouth, paused, closed his mouth and shook his head slightly, and then he snorted out a laugh of amusement as he dropped his eyes and lifted his hands to fumble at Eames’ belt buckle.

“You’re just saying that because I have my face in your crotch.”

Eames touched lightly at Arthur’s hands and Arthur stilled. Eames didn’t move his hand or do anything else to encourage Arthur to continue with his ministrations. His heart beginning to thump with something other than desire, Arthur slowly raised his eyes to meet with Eames’ suddenly earnest stare.

“You’re…” Arthur paused, looking at Eames as if seeing him for the very first time. “You’re not serious?”

“Of course I am, darling.” Eames smiled gently at him, moving a hand to knuckle his check affectionately, right where his dimple would usually show. “It’s generally not something one says otherwise.”

“You don’t even know me!” Arthur blurted, trying for amusement but failing somewhere between you and me if the rising of his voice was any indication.

“I know enough,” Eames countered, smiling more confidently now.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur muttered, wishing he could get his hands to work. They were shaking just a little against the buckle of Eames’ belt. If he could just get Eames’ pants open they could dispense with all this ridiculous talking.

“What’s ridiculous about falling in love with you?” Eames asked then and Arthur felt his entire body tremble at the very thought. He jerked his hands back and pushed hurriedly to his feet.

“What are you going on about?” Arthur frowned. His words were angrier than he’d have liked. He wet his lips, nervously. “I’m not looking for anyone to fall in love me.”

Eames laughed lightly at that, reaching for him. “Oh, Arthur, no one looking for love ever finds it.”

The look he gave then had Arthur’s heart lodging itself in his throat. He felt the familiar stirrings of panic and fear wash over him as he realised just how easily he could allow himself to fall in love with Eames, almost as easily as Eames appeared to be confessing his own intentions towards him.

He found himself pulling further back from Eames, needing the space between them. Eames caught him at the elbow, his brow creased in question. Arthur eyed him, almost warily. He felt suddenly cold, his desire dampened by Eames’ blasé words.

He wanted to push Eames away then, wanted to rail at him for ruining this, for saying perhaps the one thing guaranteed to have Arthur running a mile. Who did he think he was talking about love at a time like this? Who did he think he was talking about it as if it were the easiest thing in the world to feel for him?

“Eames, I can’t—,” he moved to step further away, but Eames held fast.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentling, as if coaxing some wild animal into trusting him.

Arthur stopped, unsure. Eames leaned in, moving as if to kiss him once more and despite the lingering want, Arthur realised he couldn’t do this. Not to Eames, and especially not to himself. He wasn’t strong enough to fall for this again. He knew he wouldn’t survive. And Eames… he was too easy to fall in love with. It would be too easy. And that, above all things, scared Arthur the most.

He turned his face away before Eames’ mouth could touch his own. He felt the soft brush of Eames’ lips against his cheek, the drag of day-old stubble teasing across his skin and he allowed himself to close his eyes momentarily before Eames pulled back.

“Arthur, what—?” It was Eames’ turn to look unsure.

“I think I should go.” He blurted, inelegantly, wincing at his own words.

“I’ve upset you,” Eames said, eyeing him carefully. Arthur felt the clench of muscles beneath the palm of his hand and realised he was touching at Eames’ stomach. His fingers twitched unconsciously against Eames’ shirt, pressing close. He focussed on the touch, trying not to hear the hurt in Eames’ voice.

“Arthur?” Eames loosened his hold on Arthur’s arms and with reluctance Arthur extracted himself completely, his hands falling to his sides.

“It’s not—” he faltered briefly before strengthening his resolve. “I don’t think this is a good idea after all.”

“If this is about me saying I could fall in love with you—?” Eames asked slowly.

“I don’t want anyone falling in love with me,” he said quickly. He saw Eames’ eyes narrow slightly, puzzling him out. He felt his heart stutter in his chest and realised the words were a lie. It’s not that he didn’t want Eames- or anyone for that matter- loving him, it was more that he didn’t want to fall in love with anyone. He couldn’t- he _wouldn’t_ \- do that to himself. Not again.

Eames reached out, carefully lifting one of his hands and bringing it to his lips. “I can take it back if it’ll make you feel better?” He asked with perfect seriousness before kissing lightly at his knuckles. Arthur felt himself tremble a little at the gesture.

“You know how I am, I leap before I look sometimes,” Eames continued, quirking a smile at him. “It’s all part of my charm, I’m afraid.”

Arthur offered a half-smile in return, appreciating Eames’ attempt to diffuse the situation despite knowing he hadn’t intended it to charm Arthur at all. Not in a way that Arthur would have been receptive to at least.

“No, it’s okay,” Arthur assured, “but I should go. Early flight tomorrow and all.”

Eames released his hand with obvious reluctance. “If you insist.”

Arthur tried not to show how his breath shuddered as he carefully exhaled, not quite in relief but it was close. He flicked a quick, nervous smile at Eames before grabbing up his suit jacket and heading towards the door.

He paused with his hand on the knob, turning to look at Eames who stood watching him with that same puzzling expression.

“I’ll… see you around,” he said, already hating how awkward he’d made things between them.

“Sure, Arthur,” Eames said, rolling his name along his tongue, “I’ll see you around.”

He tried to tell himself it was all for the best, that things would be better in the long run for him if he just walked away now. He was sure it would have worked too— it had for every other time he’d made himself leave before he got in too deep— if not for the way he kept seeing Eames’ face in his mind as he left him, half-hard and staring at him with a mixture of frustration, confusion and compassion.

Walking away this time felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done.

****  
_fin._  
  



End file.
